


Whispers to the Moon

by angelsfallingdeancatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfallingdeancatch/pseuds/angelsfallingdeancatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia is falling for Lydia, she's dealing with losing Stiles and is worried how the pack will work together now. She visits someone and learns about life and is given advice from the other side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Broken autumn leaves drifted down from steady oaks. The sun sunk away past the mountains and the purple ink began to overtake the sky. 

Malia stood at the entrance of the ancient graveyard, barely used anymore, forgotten by the town. Death fascinated her, the way people dealt with it. People weren’t lost and left the rot, at least not usually. They had a ceremony, they had a celebration. They buried or burned their dead, who were loved. 

She frowned deeply as she thought of her family. The family she wished for every night and prayed for every morning. It was an old ritual they had taught her, and though she didn’t believe in a god she hoped that they were in a nice place. A place where monsters like her birth mother couldn’t hurt them anymore. 

The wind picked up and her short hair swirled around her head. Malia tucked a piece behind her ear and stalked through the gate, shivering against the chilling but gentle wind. It comforted her, in the woods. It would brush against her fur and make her feel like flying. Now she felt exposed and unsure of herself in this skin, but she pressed on. 

It wasn’t the bright and marble graveyard, with wide spaces and a pond like where Allison was buried. A person who had fought for her without knowing her, who had meant so much to Scott and the others. Someone she never got to meet. They had visited her grave from time to time as a pack. Malia could smell the sadness, the loss emanating from her friends. She didn’t share the sorrow, but she understood it all too well. 

Now she walked to an older grave, someone she might have gone to grade school with but she couldn’t remember. Malia scowled at how much she had lost but admitted to herself that she had learned much of it. Sometimes she didn’t feel like she’d made her penance, even after thinking she’d never be human again. Stiles had promised her that she had, but in her bones she carried the blood of her family, imprinted in her was her mother’s laugh, her sister arguing with her over toys. Things that, like ash, had been swept away. 

She knelt down in from the stone, brushed off the grass and pine needles. Dirt was pushed into the engravings from time and Malia picked at it with her claws, not worried that anyone would be there to see. She noticed dry roses laid tied with a bow, just to the side of the name on the grave. She rolled it over and read the small note. It was just signed with the initial ‘D’. 

“You aren’t a wolf,” came a voice from behind her. She hadn’t heard any footsteps, no movement and she whirled around in surprise. A blonde girl stood directly to her right, not looking particularly shocked, just curious. 

As Malia scanned her with her gaze, she noticed that the girl had claws of her own. Malia was immediately defensive, ready to attack this person when she paled. 

The girl had no heartbeat. 

Malia began to growl, low in her throat. The girl continued to look at her, uninterested in her show of prowess. 

“So, what are you?” She asked, looking at her claws before dropping her hand against her thigh. 

Malia weighed her options, before begrudgingly answering that she was a coyote. 

“Huh,” the girl said walking over to Malia’s left and glancing at the grave, “Derek never told us that there were other kinds.” It was accusatory but with no heat. 

“Derek?” Malia questioned, rising to stand face to face with this girl. She remembered the 'D' on the note and squinted in thought. 

The girl didn’t respond. She just stared at the grave before sighing, shoulders slouching. 

“I just wanted to get my license,” she finally offered, before the moon light hit her and Malia’s eyes widened. 

She could see right through her.


	2. Chapter 2

The drone of the bell filled the halls. Malia sat in math class, chewing on her nails and trying to keep them from making claws. She wasn’t stupid, but math had never come easily to her and it was so advanced now. A strawberry blonde came into the room in a flurry of skirt, and Malia beamed in excitement. She and Lydia used to not get along as well as everyone else had. It took a while for Lydia to open up to her and Malia had tried her best to show support. 

She’d never lost a friend before, not to death. A crevasse was between Lydia and Allison that couldn’t be crossed except with time. 

One night, amid the turning of papers and highlighting, red for not knowing, yellow for unsure, green for knowing, Lydia had brought up Allison. Malia listened reverently. The girl had saved her life, albeit against her will, and something in Malia felt her absence. The hole her death left in the pack, in her friends. 

Lydia had gotten emotional, eyes welling up and hands clenched around the comforter on Lydia’s lavish bed. Malia had reached out and held her hand, told her about losing her family, how she felt disconnected to her father, how she wasn’t sure what to do with her birth relatives. When Lydia met her eyes, wet and red, they shone with something different. It wasn’t the begrudged respect from before, maybe it something like friendship. 

Now Malia felt her heart speed up and her breath catch when Lydia came into the room. She knew that the others must notice. The looks Kira or Scott would sometimes give her were obvious enough. They hadn’t talked about it because Malia had steered clear of any kind of conversations that could lead to her getting caught in a lie. 

After Stiles, Malia had felt like she could stand on her own two feet, that she deserved better than to be discarded. She never expected to find a crush so quickly, or that it would be on a girl. Not that it was weird. Malia knew anyone could be with anyone, but she had never known that about herself until Lydia smiled at her at lunch, and happiness grew in her chest. 

“Did you remember your homework?” Lydia said as she slid into the desk next to hers. Kira looked up from her math book and brightly smiled at the both of them, which Malia returned. Lydia’s eyebrow rose and Malia grumbled about not wanting to turn in something that was done poorly. Lydia pulled Malia’s backpack over with a manicured hand. Malia shook her head, wondering why she was noticing such unimportant things about her. It was like Stiles all over again, counting the freckles on his face because she had to know what pictures they made. 

Lydia scanned over the work, frowning in concentration. Kira glanced over her shoulder and her mouth opened in shock.  
“Malia!” Kira said with excitement, “you got them all right!” Kira’s smile shown with pride and Malia stared at her blankly in disbelief, before looking to Lydia. A small smile covered her face, but her eyes showed that she was just as proud. Malia felt her chest expand and she found herself captured in Lydia’s gaze, in the notion that she had succeeded and moved forward, but also that she had impressed Lydia. She never thought that was possible, Lydia seemed impenetrable at times. Malia couldn’t tell if it was a façade left over from her earlier days, or if it was an act to protect herself from everything that had befallen them.

“I guess studying with you really helped,” she offered her, after staring much too long. Lydia pulled her shoulders back and flicked her hair behind her in triumph. 

“I knew I could do it,” she said with a smirk. Lydia knew it was actually Malia who had done all the hard work, Lydia had just believed in her. That kind of faith amazed Malia, this belief in her that her friends seemed to have. 

Kira nodded and gave Malia a high five before the teacher began class. Malia began to zone out, taking notes as she thought back to the graveyard. To the girl who had appeared, as if from nothing, and who had left just as quickly. Malia wasn’t afraid, if anything she was intrigued. Malia speculated on mentioning it to her friends, but decided she wanted to investigate further on her own. She had a nagging suspicion that a certain cousin of hers might have some answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Malia mentioned the name Erica and the air around them was sucked out of the loft.

She had made her way out of state without telling anyone. She wasn’t used to people worrying about her, expecting her to be around, and so far no one had tried to get ahold of her. 

Derek traveled a lot with Braeden as her sidekick, though he’d never admit it, and they had a little place in Colorado. They had many of these small nooks and crannies all over the United States, but this one seemed to be their favorite. 

It’s why she wasn’t surprised to find them there, Derek reading on the couch and Braeden opening the door for her when she knocked. 

Neither of them seemed surprised to see her, even if it was still her forte to be silent when she moved. Braeden was someone she trusted, always called for help, and Derek was never far behind. Malia sometimes thought it was just for Scott, but she caught him gazing at her with some unknown pain before he’d look away every once and awhile. Malia wondered if he cared about her, too. 

Now, everything had static and charge. Braeden stood, transfixed and motionless, staring at the cousins. 

Derek still hadn’t looked up at her from his book, but the spine had cracked and the pages ripped around his claws. 

Malia kept her pride at guessing correctly well hidden, not wanting him to mistake her smugness for callousness. 

“What?” he growled, before his eyes snapped to hers, “how do you know her name?”

Malia bit her lip and glanced away towards Braeden, who still stood watching them with worry and interest. She must have had similar questions as Malia and even as she wanted to comfort Derek, she wanted to know the answer more. 

She’d sound completely crazy, he’d throw her out, her only real connection to her family would stop caring about her and—

“I found her grave,” she told him, looking at his eyes, “and she talked to me.”

Derek’s face went slack and his eyebrow rose, “She…what?”

Malia rolled her eyes, why did people never understand what she was saying? She huffed and said, “she talked to me, you know, her ghost showed up and spoke words.”

Derek clenched his jaw, slamming the book down on the table next to them. He said nothing, just stared over her shoulder, warring with himself. Braeden stepped forward but kept her distance, mouth open but no words. 

After a icy silence Braeden said, “It’s not outside the realm of possibility," before she inched closer.

“I know,” he snapped, before sighing and giving her an apologetic look, “it’s not outside of it.”

Finally, Derek’s shoulders sagged and he seemed to try and shrink into himself. “I got them killed,” he said, voice wobbling, “Boyd and Erica. My old pack.”

Malia nodded, she could understand that. She took his hand in hers and interlaced their fingers, knowing how hard it was to lose pack and family. Malia thought of her mother and winced. Derek crushed her hand in his, in support of her pain, but also a lifeline from his. 

Derek seemed entranced by the act and continued to talk at their hands, “they got caught by this alpha pack we were fighting.” He licked his lips, mouth obviously dry. 

Malia scooted forward on the couch, completely facing her cousin, eyes wide. An alpha pack was almost unheard of. She’d heard Stiles mention them, but no one had explained this much before. 

“They had my sister, too,” he continued to their hands, unable or unwilling to say it to Malia. 

She hadn’t heard much about her other cousin. She had never visited since her brief stay in Beacon Hills. From what her friends had told her, they would get along rather well. 

“Boyd and Cora got away. Erica…” he seemed to struggle for words, his knuckles white around hers and she felt her bones start to crunch. She didn’t care. 

Derek’s voice broke, “we found her in a closet.”

Braeden wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, having crossed the space between them, and Derek pressed his face into her arm.

Malia waited, if not impatiently, for Derek to catch his breath. She knew this feeling emanating off him and it kept her quiet. 

Smelling Braeden calmed Derek, and he eased away from her, still in her hold and he sniffed. He still smelled of something worse than sadness, of loss. Something she’d smelled on Stiles and Scott, but more potent. It was similar to how she smelled. 

Malia still had questions, though, and pried farther, “where is Boyd, then?”

Derek’s exhale was strangled but he answered, “they killed him later.” The hole he was leaving in his explanation was stagnating, and Braeden and Malia knew it, but neither of them pushed. 

Derek loosened his grip but continued to hold her hand, tugging her closer, saying, “what did she say?”

Malia shrugged as she was dragged to Derek, “she wanted to know what I was, she was mad you hadn’t told her there were other kinds of weres.”

Derek snorted and smiled for the first time since Malia walked through the door. He shook his head and said, “yeah, yeah she would be.” Then he deflated and let go of her hand. “I haven’t been there to see her in a long time.”

“We’ll go soon, we’ve been meaning to visit,” Braeden promised and Derek kissed her cheek.

Malia smiled at their show of affection. Derek, after everything he’d been through, which Malia wasn’t completely sure of, deserved happiness. 

“I’m gonna go talk to her again,” Malia told them boldly, shoulders back and standoffish. 

Derek grinned and looked at Malia with something like affection and said, “Why wouldn’t you? She’s just like you.”

~~~~

Malia slammed the door of Kira's car shut. Maybe she should have told her she was taking her car?

She looked at her phone and found 10 missed calls from Scott, 2 from Lydia, along with 7 texts from Kira and 1 from Mason. Malia hit her head against the steering wheel and put the car into gear. 

Guess she needed to get home, but first, she had to go visit her friend.


	4. Chapter 4

The grass around Erica’s grave felt old and rough. Malia grimaced at its touch on her ankles as she sat facing the stone. There was no wind that day and the sun shone brightly on her back. 

Stiles’ plaid shirt was wrapped around her waist and she found that it wasn’t comforting like it used to be. She should give it back, now. She wasn’t even sure why she was wearing it. It was habit, something she’d done for so long and now it felt….

Maybe this was stupid, maybe Erica wouldn’t answer—

“Hey,” Malia into the air, not sure what to really say, “Derek told me what happened.” She ran her hands on the blades of grass idly before sighing. She didn’t know how to talk to dead people. She had only been to her mother and sister’s graves with her dad once; it had been laced with awkwardness and aches in her joints. 

She had already spent most of her life protecting a doll, torturing herself about their deaths and trying to take it back. Why would she continue to let it rule her life?

She heard the crunch of feet on gravel and stood up quickly. She hadn’t been paying attention like she should have been in Beacon Hills. The air was full of lilacs and hairspray and 

Malia loosened her muscles and smiled. Lydia stormed up to her, eyes blazing, mouth set. Malia’s stomach flipped and she swallowed as Lydia got right in her face. 

“Do you know how worried we all were?” she chastised, poking Malia’s arm, “we looked for you, Kira’s car was gone.”

“I know, bu-,” Malia tried to cut in, but Lydia only glared at her and steamrolled on.

“And I find you in a graveyard? Why are you here? Talking to ghosts?” she joked, but Malia’s eyes betrayed her and Lydia froze. “You are literally here talking…to dead people?” she said cautiously, looking behind Malia at the grave before wilting.

Lydia crept over to the slab like the ground might open up on her, but the sun just beat down unforgivingly. 

She stared at the grave while Malia stared after her until she finally said, “I’ve never been here, and I didn’t know where they buried her.” 

Malia nodded, but it seemed Lydia was trying to comfort herself. She crumpled to the ground, flower covered dress pressed to dirt. Malia joined her, prickly grass tickled her thighs but she was too focused on Lydia to care. 

She shook a little, like she was cold and Malia bent forward to rest her head on Lydia’s shoulder. Lydia laid her head on Malia’s and they sat like that, quiet except the birds chirping. 

“We weren’t close,” Lydia said after a while, reaching forward to trace Erica’s name, “but I liked her.” She chuckled but it fell flat. “Allison didn’t, but that’s because there was this huge misunderstanding…” Lydia exhaled darkly and drew her legs to her chest. Malia wanted to kiss her, even just her cheek, but reined it in.

Malia stayed silent, just listening to Lydia’s heartbeat, and kept her company. 

“Why are you trying to talk to Erica?” Lydia asked, turning to face Malia and smiling gently. 

Malia’s eyes widened and she shrugged, not wanting to spill her secret just yet. She knew she could never lie to Lydia, though, so she gave in and told her, “she talked to me first.”

Lydia seemed to be thrown deep in thought, wiping off the dirt that had accumulated on the grave as her browns fused together. 

“Well, if you want to talk to a ghost, you have to use a Ouija board,” she said seriously, nodding her head like it was settled, “we’ll all meet her in 2 days and try and talk to her.”

“What? Who?” Malia gaped, following Lydia as she got up and started to walk away.

Lydia shook the dirt from her dress and rolled her eyes before laughing, “You, Kira and I of course.” She huffed before adding, “And Hayden I guess, since she’s pack now.”

Malia slumped and began to argue, “it’s not just a fun thing, this is important.”

Lydia stopped her sway and rounded on her, throwing her arms around Malia and hugged her hard.

“Of course, honey, of course, I know,” she pledged, and Malia took a deep whiff of her hair and nodded. 

They were gonna help Erica, somehow.


	5. Chapter 5

Malia didn’t want to wait until her friends were ready to visit Erica again.

Armed with an Ouija board she’d bought from the local witch store, Malia slipped into the graveyard in the dead of night. Everything seemed unnaturally still and fog rolled in gently. She could barely see the tombstone in the light of the moon, which she took as a positive sign. 

She lay in the too dry grass and felt it crack beneath her. She pulled out the Ouija board and took a deep breathe, before asking, “Erica? Are you there?”

After a moment, the game piece began to move until it rest on ‘yes’. 

Malia’s pupils grew and she sucked in an exhale in surprise. Okay, so Erica really was around and real and she wasn’t losing it. 

Slowly she stopped her hands from shaking in excitement and said, “Are you mad that I told my friends?”

The piece moved to the ‘No’ rather quickly and Malia let out a huge breathe. 

“Okay, good, cause…” she drifted, unsure what to say, “I guess I kind of care.”

The piece didn’t move but she felt energy around her and wished that she could understand.

“Can you show up again?” Malia wondered, fingers on the board piece, waiting. 

It didn’t move from ‘No’ and she took it as an answer. 

“Why?”

The arrow moved from H to A, then R and D. 

Okay, so it’s too difficult sometimes, Malia could understand that. Math was too hard for her most of the time, but she still tried. Erica must be exerting herself just by answering her, and Malia felt guilty. 

She lowered her head against the board, before she felt languid and fuzzy. The loss of energy worried her and Malia looked around in terror for a moment but resting her eyes on the blonde girl again.

“Erica?” she whispered, drained and weak for seemingly no reason.

Erica looked pained, staring at her before she began to fade. 

“Too hard, I’m sorry,” she heard before the image was gone and her strength returned.

Malia looked at the board as the piece moved by itself.

It spelled E-R-I-C-A.

The next day at school droned on and on for Malia. All she could think was that Erica never got to sit in these classes, that she had loved things and wanted and ultimately lost her life. 

Who else would lose theirs?

Malia slumped in her seat and glanced to her right. Stiles took diligent notes in the history class. Scott, too, was taking notes but kept looking at her intermittedly. She ignored him and kept her eye on Stiles.

This whole break up thing was weird. Malia knew she was a good girlfriend, a good person, and she wondered if she had somehow not been enough for Stiles. For some reason she had an inkling it was Stiles’ problem, not hers. But she liked to blame herself, even though she knew it was unhealthy. Or at least that’s what Kira told her. 

The bell rang and the students began to file out of the room, Scott caught her arm. 

Malia didn’t flinch like she might have before from being surprised. She knew the presence next to her more than she knew anyone else. 

“Scott,” she acknowledged, staying in his grasp as he half dragged her down the hall.

She was thankful that her breakup hadn't seemed to affect Scott. She had been afraid that everyone would choose sides, and even more afraid that no one would choose her. The pack did seem a little distant and awkward, finding the news ways they fit now, but she had been most worried about her friendship with Scott. He still talked to her, spent time with her, and he still smelled of Stiles, so they were hanging out as well. It eased something in her chest. 

It wasn’t until that moment that she realized that Scott stunk of something sad, deep, and dark.

She’d guess it was regret. 

“Derek's upset,” he told her, with no accusations or blame in his voice. He looked at her with admiration, and generous amounts of caring. 

It made Malia uncomfortable, shifting weight from one foot to the other.

“Okay,” she said, blinking at him, waiting for him to say something that she could fix or attack, something other than just staring at her with affection.

Scott shuffled his feet and ducked his head, “What you are doing for them, for Erica…” Scott reeked of the sloppy sad thing that seeped into her clothes. 

He continued, finding her eyes, “You have to save her. We—we have to save her,” he gritted his jaw, determined and stoic. 

Malia blinked again, maybe she a little unsure under her cool façade. Erica hadn’t been pack to Scott, not to any of them but Derek. 

It was hard enough for her to care about people that weren’t pack, but Scott didn’t have an end to his outstretched hands. 

She nodded, rocks of responsibility resting on her shoulders. If Scott wanted it, she’d do it. 

Scott smiled warmly at her and clasped her arm and said, “let’s go before we are late.”

Malia huffed, “We’re already late,” and stared at him.

Scott let out a booming laugh, something he usually reserved for Stiles, and flashed her with another smile, “Well, let’s not be even later!”, he teased, leading the way up the hall.

“But we are always late!” she shouted after him before sprinting.


	6. Chapter 6

Scott stared at the text from Stiles, trying not to shatter his phone. 

‘I’ve called her 20 times. Lydia, Kira, Hayden. None of them answered.’

Scott wanted to believe they were having a great time talking to Erica and couldn’t be bothered to answer them, but he knew better.

Beacon Hills was too dangerous to not check up on his friends.   
~~~  
“What are we doing here, again?” Corey asked, hands in his pockets and uncomfortably glancing around the graveyard, “I don’t like the reminder that I should be here.”

Mason smacked his shoulder playfully.

“We gotta find our friends,” he offered when Liam and Scott had stayed silent, and Stiles had only scoffed. 

“Your friends,” Corey insisted, which caused Mason to glare at his boyfriend. 

“Can you both shut up and look?” Stiles snapped, glancing around gravestones, looking at names. 

Mason nodded and Corey sighed dramatically. 

Scott continued his silence. He was used to them joking around; they hadn’t lost as many people as he had and likely thought nothing of this. He walked purposefully towards Erica’s grave. He could smell his friends and girlfriend. In his gut, he knew. 

Something horrible had happened. 

Liam rushed past him, picking up the board and holding it loosely in his left hand.

“Where are they?” he demanded, breath quickening as Scott noticed his hands shake. 

“I don’t know,” Scott answered, putting a hand on Liam’s shoulder, “but we are going to find them.”  
~~~  
Sounds collided into light so blinding that Malia wasn’t sure how she was standing. 

When her vision cleared she realized she was, in fact, flung across what she assumed was the ground.

The sounds didn’t stop, coalescing into a louder and louder murmur. Malia couldn’t make out the words, so she tried to ignore its persistence and peered over her arm.

Kira had been hurled some ways away, hair covered her face and she wasn’t moving. Malia could hear her heartbeat so she glanced to her right and saw Hayden. Their eyes met before Hayden’s dashed back behind Malia. 

Her eyes strained and sprang tears as she dragged herself up onto her elbows. Bones had been broken, but they were healing. Malia couldn’t place it, but this felt like a different sort of draining. She gritted her teeth and rounded on Lydia. 

Lydia, who was staring right at her, wide and glassy eyed, unseeing and mouth agape. Malia guessed that she was seeing something, just not her. 

Hayden whispered hoarsely, “Lydia…?”

Malia frowned when Lydia didn’t react. She gently took her friend’s face in her hands, but it felt like she was carrying stones instead of skin. 

“Lydia.” Malia said, her voice hard and serious. Lydia’s fogged eyes drifted to Malia’s. Emboldened, Malia continued, “talk to me.”

Lydia mouth stayed gaping as she hissed, “they are everywhere.”

Malia’s hands shook, because she didn’t hear or sense anything, but she wanted to fight. She wanted to believe they were alone, but she trusted Lydia more than her own fear.

“Who?” Hayden prompted, having pulled herself onto her knees, eyebrows creased and eyes wide. 

Lydia blinked. Her eyes had watered, tears slipped down her chin. Malia was certain she hadn’t blinked since they had been there. 

“They are,” Lydia answered. She glared at nothing and attempted to work her jaw before continuing, “the dead ones.”

“The dead who? Who’s dead?” Malia said, a little too loud and Hayden wrapped her arms around herself. Kira still hadn’t moved and just the gentle rise and fall of her chest kept Malia from screaming. 

“We all are,” said a familiar voice from beside Kira. 

Lydia glanced at Kira before collapsing and Malia maneuvered her to the ground. Now that she was looking at it, it seemed to move. It reminded her of something living, of breathing, and it unsettled her. When she looked back at Kira, she saw what she had heard, but had a hard time believing it.Erica knelt next to Kira, hands on her shoulders, pulling her up with ease. Malia was surprised by how corporeal she was. She was almost real.

Erica snorted, catching her staring and said, “I’m alive, idiot. At least,” she paused, cocking her head to one side, “here I am.” Kira started to stir and Malia kept her hands under Lydia’s head, but she ached to help her friend. She was torn, but her gut said to trust Erica.   
But her gut had been wrong before. Hayden was staring, her mouth in a thin line. 

“Did you bring us here?” Hayden demanded, eyes growing yellow. Erica’s became a twin color as she flicked her gold hair over her shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” she grunted, glancing at the blurry eyed Kira as she murmured incoherently. 

“Not on purpose?” Hayden snapped, stumbling to her feet. 

“You just gonna copy everything I say?” Erica shot back, arm around Kira, helping her sit all the way up. 

Hayden glared and began to argue, but Malia stopped her by cutting in, “Kira! Are you okay?”

Kira was staring at Erica, shocked and eager. She nodded enthusiastically at Malia, before grimacing at the action. 

“Hi, I’m Kira. Well, I mean, you already knew that, but…” she stammered before Erica rolled her eyes.

“Erica,” she offered, arm still around her to keep her steady. 

“But if you’re here, and we’re here…” Kira started, frowning.

“Are we dead?” Malia interjected, feeling the itch of her teeth starting to grow. She couldn’t be dead. They couldn’t be dead. They had so much to do; they weren’t even out of high school yet, arguably the worst part of their lives. Her father would be devastated. What would happen to him? She had never even told Lydia…

“We aren’t dead,” Lydia slurred and Malia crouched over her, her thoughts abruptly lost. Before she could question if she was okay, she said, “but we will be if we don’t leave.”


End file.
